Oh, My Sweet Flour
by the vortex of meow
Summary: Theodore Nott tutors his god-daughter, Rani Zabini. / "What does that make me?" - "Probably a brat like your father." - She kicks him - Too bad he was reaching for the flour.


**Written for Language Club on The Golden Snitch Forum. Mini-comp adding colours and numbers in a different language into the story. Also French phrases. Two languages ahead. French and Hindi. Rani means queen and we all know Blaise would name his daughter that.  
**

 ** _Comment allez-vous?_ \- How are you?**

 ** _Au revoir_ \- Good bye**

 **Theodore Nott baby-sitting/tutoring his god-daughter. Un-beta'd and oh... Theodore Nott speaking French _. ;)_**

 ** _Written with one of my teammates in mind, Celinarose, she helped with the name and, well, partially she inspired it halfway through. ;)  
_**

* * *

Theodore Nott scowled at the brat — the _person,_ the _cause_ of his current misfortune. Said misfortune was being covered in flour because that's what he got for teaching a nine-year old how to cook.

Dark brown eyes sparkled at him and a sly smirk — which was more adorable than frightening in all honesty — was aimed at him. It was reminscent of both her mother's charm and her father's intelligence.

 _Horrifying._

Parvati's and Blaise's spawn would topple mountains when she was older and break hearts, Theo had no doubts. This was his little god-daughter. How time flew by. Once a top student and now resorted to tutoring children and _cooking._

He ran a hand through his flour-covered hair and flicked it out, causing a puff of dust to float in the air. Her tiny nose wrinkled up and she sneezed.

Theo smirked back at her.

He survived a _war._ Being shamed by a nine-year old was _not_ going to happen. Today, tomorrow, or next week. He promptly poured the rest of the flour bag on top of her.

" _Comment allez-vous?"_ He asked innocently.

"Oh, shut up, Uncle Theo."

* * *

...

"Why should I have to listen to you?" Rani crossed her arms, exhibiting perfect pure-blooded brattiness that Theo had learned to roll his eyes at. It was _dramatic_ when you were eleven, but it was just embarrassing to do past third year. Rani had reached neither age and so Theo was perfectly happy to just secretly take pictures so he could embarrass her when she grew up.

"Because Mummy put me in charge." Theo started to sort through the textbooks he had brought. "I'm your tutor. We went over this a week."

She huffed and perched herself on the sofa next to him, "Why do I have to learn _French?_ " Rani kicked the air absently, "I'm, like, part _Italian."_

"Because..." Theo paused his sorting and replied, deadpan. "You, _like,_ have to."

She kicked him.

He hissed, "Alright, fine. Your daddy wants you to have power and learning different languages is easy power."

"Why?" she whined pathetically.

Theo winced. It was like listening to a whining Blaise when he failed to take the girl he wanted on a date. A minature version.

"Because your mummy was a Gryffindor and your daddy just knows you'll take after your mummy and he wants you to trample all little lions in your path to greatness."

Rani practically beamed

That was a direct quote from the proud father himself when he had asked Theo to tutor his daughter in French classes because his baby girl was going to _trample little li—_ Theo shook his head. He just couldn't go on. Blaise had fallen.

"Alright, do you remember what we covered last week?"

She shook her head.

"Of course you do. You're brillant and intelligent because you take after your father. Don't lie."

Also because Parvati had privately told Theo that her daughter had been engrossed in language books all week.

Rani scowled.

"All right. I'll start it off. _Bonjour, madamoiselle."_

She replied promptly, " _Au revoir."_

Theo would admit that he was slightly impressed by the sharp comeback if anything.

He held up four fingers. "How many fingers am I holding up?"

She surveyed his fingers with a dull stare, "Four."

"No..."

" _Char."_ She said petulantly.

 _That wasn't right, that was..._ Theo blinked. "Where did you learn that?"

"Mummy taught me!"

Parvati was — Theo sighed and leant back on the couch, "Then why am I teaching you _French_ if Mummy is teaching you _Hindi?"_

"That's what I asked you!"

"Let's not talk about that. Let's just go on with the lesson, okay?"

Theo pointed at the pink-coloured vase on the table, "Color?"

" _Gulabi."_ She pronouced precisely.

Theo gave her a _look_ and she rolled her eyes, " _Rose."_

He held up his four fingers again and pronouced loudly, " _Quatre."_

She repeated it with a bored look. "When will we get past all the colours? We went over this last week." Rani climbed onto the sofa and folded her legs under her while peering at Theo pleadingly. "It's so boring."

"Black?"

" _Noir."_

"Orange?"

" _Orange."_

"Five?"

" _Cinq."_

Rani's dark brown eyes were already darting all over the place, looking for something to distract herself with. Fidgeting at the same time.

Theo hummed in thought while staring at his god-daughter. Rani was _unnaturally_ smart for her age. Blaise certainly saw it with the way he proudly presented their daughter wherever they went and Parvati was already teaching her her native tongue. They never discouraged their daughter from learning.

But — they never would quite understand the boredom that came with the urge to know everything at once. Something that Theo himself had suffered. He never could _focus._ Theo grabbed Rani by the wrist and gently tugged her out of the sofa. "Uncle Theo?"

"Do you know how to cook?"

Rani scrambled to keep up with his quick steps to the kitchen without getting dragged behind. "No..."

"Yeah, well, I do." Theo grabbed her and placed her on the kitchen table before rummaging around the kitchen for a pot.

"Really?" She wrinked her nose, "How _feminine."_

"Oh hush up." Theo sighed at the dismaying lack of ingredients in their kitchen and the more unfamiliar ones. He picked up a plant-like stem and sniffed it. _Ah, curry leaf._

"I thought you were teaching me _French?"_ She asked curiously.

"I still am." He raised an eyebrow in her direction and ticked her nose with a curry leaf. Rani giggled; like a little girl instead of a brat. It was almost cute.

"While I am teaching you how to cook." Theo gave her the curry leaf and started the stove. "You'll be reciting every colour and number in _French._ Language isn't about _learning_ it. It isn't about opening a book and suddenly you're fluent. It's about practice."

Theo glanced at her, "You can even do it in _Hindi_ after you finish."

Rani — for the first time since he arrived — grinned widely and brightly.

"What are you making then?"

"Pasta. Fresh pasta." He winked at her. "Because you are, _like,_ Italian." Theo tried to say it with the same teenager twang that Rani was already a master in at nine years.

She pouted, "Not _palak paneer?"_ Her eyes brightened. "Or _paratha?"_

Theo brandished a cooking spoon at her, "I'm part French. Don't insult me."

Rani started to swing her legs off the kitchen counter. "Mummy is Indian."

"Mhmm."

"Daddy is Italian."

"Mhmm."

"You're part French."

"Well, on my mother's side."

Rani continued smoothly as if he had never spoken, "Part French."

"Mhmm."

"Then what am I going to be?" Rani said dreamily, staring up at the ceiling.

Theo started to open up the cupboards. "Probably a _brat_ like your father."

She kicked him.

Too bad it was right when he was reaching for the bag of flour.

...

" _Comment allez-vous?"_

"Oh, shut up, Uncle Theo."


End file.
